Dramatic Pauses and Stage Whispers
by Raeyl
Summary: When the Hale's moved (back) to Beacon Hills everything changed. At first it was nothing, just random howls being reported in the woods that sounded like wolves. But now, 12-years-later, almost everyone Stiles Stilinski knows is either a werewolf or is dating one. And that pales in comparison to the fact that his Senior Project is to direct the school play. How was this his life?
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

_**Now – Fall 2014**_

It has been four years since he first saw her brilliantly bright hazel eyes and beautiful strawberry blonde hair. She had been so small, so young, and so different than she is now. Her potential was obvious from the start. There was a power hidden in her - it rolled off of her in waves. It was intoxicating.

Peter Hale is the type of man who, no matter what, gets what he wants. He is also a very patient man. When Peter sets his eyes on something he does whatever he has to do, even if it means waiting years to make Lydia Martin his.

The first time that Peter saw Lydia was in his Introduction to the Dramatic Arts class her freshman year at Beacon Hills High School. The class is designed for freshman, those 14 to 15 year olds who thought the class would be a breeze, an easy-A. Peter didn't fault them for their logic. When he was in high school, Peter had thought the exact same thing. Though for him it became more than just an easy-A. Dramatic arts went from being something at which Peter was extremely good to what could have been a promising career.

The death of his brother-in-law, however, brought an end to his possible career in acting. Peter gave up everything he had built to be there for his family, his pack. It was something he couldn't regret doing, because if he had never gone on the run with Talia and her children, he would never have come back to Beacon Hills and would never have met Lydia.

Being on the run was something Peter put out of his mind once they settled down in Beacon Hills twelve years ago. It was five years of his life where he had to keep his nieces and nephew's fears at bay while keeping them and his sister, his alpha, alive.

Beacon Hills was always a coming home point for the Hale Pack. His family practically built the city, so no matter how long or how far the pack got from Beacon Hills the Hale Pack would find its way back.

The last time the pack had been in Beacon Hills was when Peter was 16-years-old. Talia had just turned 20. That was when Talia met Edmund Aesir.

Edmund was a young beta, the son of some distant relation to the Hale Pack through an old pact No one really knew anymore, it had been so long. Edmund's father was dying and wanted his last surviving son to marry into a strong pack, to be happy and create a strong pack of his own even if it meant the end of the Aesir name. Talia was the logical choice for this arrangement, her being the next in line to be the alpha of the Hale Pack.

Talia was smitten with Edmund even before she knew that she was to marry him, making it was a good match, a good marriage. After the wedding, the Hale alpha at the time, Peter and Talia's aunt, decided that the Hale would move to the Aesir Pack's territory and make it their own. So they moved from Beacon Hills, California to Catskill, New York.

Peter only stayed in Catskill until he graduated high school, moving to New York City for college. He was 22-years-old when Edmund died, a semester away from graduating with his bachelor's degree. It took Peter five years to finish that last semester, and another two years for him to turn that degree into one for teaching.

That was 12 years ago. In the fourteen years since, all of Talia's children have graduated high school; Laura even graduated college while Derek and Cora are still attending the local Community College. In the last 12 years, Peter met Lydia Martin.

That first encounter was four years ago. Four years of waiting, four years of him being patient. Four years that Peter and Lydia had to make up for lost time.

_**Then – Fall 2010**_

It was a very cold and dreary September day, the wind blowing the leaves off the branches. The dreary mood engulfed the students as they arrived for the first day of the new school year.

"Of course it's windy on the first day of school," Stiles groaned.

"It is rather chilly," Scott agreed as he zipped up his hoodie, Scott's hood already covering his head to keep his ears warm.

"Oh, Scotty boy…" Stiles groaned, letting out a large white puff of air into the chilly air. "I thought you were excited for the first day of high school."

"I am," Scott said, speeding up his walk to catch up with Stiles who was nearly to the front steps of Beacon Hills High School. "But it's too cold to be as excited as we were yesterday."

"Yesterday was amazing and you know it! Also, the weather shouldn't affect your excitement about being a high schooler," Stiles said as he pulled open the door to the school as wide as he could in a flailing motion, almost knocking himself over in the process.

Scott made his own flailing attempt to steady Stiles from falling. The students who were walking behind him waltzed forward and toward the door Stiles was holding wide open. The two students who walked through were ones that Scott recognized, Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore.

Lydia Martin was a stark contrast to how she was the year previous. In middle school, she wore bulky glasses that covered nearly half her face and she wore her hair in a long braid more often than not. Now, she had her hair in a cascade of curls that framed her face, which was now free of glasses. Lydia had always been cute, but now she was gorgeous.

Stiles saw this new-and-improved Lydia and literally began to drool. He'd had a crush on her since third grade, but the way she looked now went straight to his dick and he wouldn't even care if he got a boner right now, it'd be so worth it.

"Hello, Lydia. You're looking extremely gorgeous today," Stiles says, surprised he didn't speed through the words making them unidentifiable. It wouldn't have been the first time when it came to Lydia Martin.

Jackson sidled up to Lydia, blocking Lydia from Stiles' and Scott's view of her. He swung his arm around her shoulders and smiled smugly in their direction.

"At least some people know who they should hold doors open for," he said, turning to Lydia who only flipped her strawberry blonde curls over her shoulder as she continued to walk into the building, ignoring everyone around her.

"That was," Stiles said, leaning into the hallway to watch Lydia and Jackson as they walked away from them, "eye opening."

"Dude, you are literally drooling," Scott said, his head tilted to the side as he looked at his best friend's face.

"I'm surprised I don't have a raging boner right now, honestly."

"And that is the way to start high school, huh?" Scott said as he placed his arm over his best friend's shoulder as they walked into Beacon Hills High School for the first time.


	2. What's that Smell?

**CHAPTER ONE: WHAT'S THAT SMELL?**

_**Now – Fall 2014**_

"Scott, dude, stop making that face. It's disgusting! You smell rotting flesh or something? Because if you do; gross dude. Rotting flesh throws off my appetite." Stiles' groaned as he placed his soda can down on the table, giving his best friend a disgruntled look.

"Rotting flesh! That's it!" Scott said too loudly. "That's the smell!"

Isaac rolled his eyes at Scott's excitement. "I don't smell anything, Scott."

"Just take a sniff. It's there, I swear," Scott replied, his face reminding Stiles of a whiny puppy.

Isaac placated the other teen with a sarcastically dramatic show at sniffing the air. His face scrunched up immediately. "Gross. It is rotting flesh. Both new and old. Weird."

"Well I officially lost my appetite," Stiles deadpanned, and his two werewolf friends started grumbling about the rotting flesh that they were smelling, trying to identify the length of the decay. He tuned out their conversation quickly because he saw Lydia Martin making her way across the quad toward their usual lunch table. And, as usual, Jackson Whittemore was nipping at her heels.

"What's that smell? Stilinski's newest attempt at cologne?" Jackson's face was a mirror to the scrunched up expression Isaac had on his face earlier, his voice louder than Isaac and Scott were being, making the table nearest to them glance over.

It was nothing new, the staring; it always happened when Jackson was around. After the last few years of being "friends" with Jackson, the stares just got more common because everyone wanted to know what the co-captain of the lacrosse team had to say. It did not help that Jackson did not understand the concept of subtlety.

"Ha, ha," was all Stiles replied.

"Scott thinks it's a zombie," Isaac deadpanned, scooting over to make room for Jackson and Lydia on the table's bench.

"It smells like a rotting corpse that's both alive and dead so what else could it be?" Scott piped up.

Stiles, who finally heard what his friends were talking about, perked up. "Zombies? Really?" He smiled. "Boyd owes me 20 bucks!"

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles, who was fishing out his phone from his pocket. "You need actual physical proof of zombies to win a bet, Stiles."

"Spoilsport!" Stiles stuck his tongue out at Lydia. "I'm still texting him about it."

Isaac was the next to roll his eyes at Stiles. "You could just tell him yourself; he's right behind you with Erica."

With a show of his usual grace, Stiles flailed with his entire body, giving himself whiplash with how quickly he whirled around to see that, indeed, Boyd and Erica were right behind them. Boyd's face was its usual level of stoic and Erica's was a mixture of perplexed and delighted - so nothing out of the ordinary.

"Scott, Isaac, and Jackson smell a zombie," Stiles said, bobbing his head at the three boys sitting across the table. "I win the bet."

"I never agreed to said bet, Stilinski, making it null and void."

"Zombies, really? Awesome!" Erica crooned as she scooted Stiles closer to Scott to make room for Boyd and herself. "Much more interesting than a kanima for sure."

At the mention of the kanima, Jackson growled, loudly enough that the freshman at the table nearest to them jumped up and quickly ran away. Most of them left behind what remained of their lunches, and one - Stiles recognized from lacrosse, Liam? - forgot his backpack in his haste to leave. Stiles laughed at both Jackson's reaction and the haste of the freshmen's retreat.

"It's been three years and you are still scaring away freshman whenever someone says the word kanima." Stiles nearly buckled over in hysterics before Jackson kicked his shin from under the table and made a scene of leaving. "Whatever Jackson, we all know you're still butt hurt about being a lizard!" he yelled at Jackson.

Lydia just shook her head at him, not caring one ounce where he was trotting off to. He was most likely to sulk and complain to Danny. That was all Jackson seemed to be doing these days.

Whenever Lydia wanted to spend any time with Jackson, more often than not, either he was at Danny's house or Danny was at his. Last night, Lydia could not sleep because of the cacophony of the voices in her head, trying to goad the banshee into screaming. She made her way to Jackson's house and let herself in with her key.

Jackson was not alone in his bed; Danny was there. Lydia and Jackson had not been exclusive since he came back from London, so it was no big deal for someone else to be in his bed, but this night it bothered her. That was when Lydia realized she needed someone else, a man who would cherish her and understand her better than a boy as if Jackson ever could. A man like Peter Hale. A man who also happened to be her teacher.

Lydia did not have an issue with the age difference between her and Peter, but the fact that she had such a clichéd crush on her hot teacher was a shock to her. Eventually, the shock wore off. Peter and she had a history, one that showed that the older werewolf generally cared about her well-being. Over the years, Peter had saved her life on numerous occasions, something she was always grateful for.

She had spent a great deal of her time in the past week weighing the pros and cons of being with Peter Hale in a romantic capacity. It wasn't until this very moment, watching her first love stomp away like an immature child, that Lydia made her decision. She would have what she wanted, and what she wanted was Peter Hale.

_**Then – Fall 2010**_

Lydia had made a transformation over the summer from the shy math geek she had been in middle school to a woman who took charge and got what she wants. What Lydia Martin wanted, Lydia Martin would get, and what she wanted was Jackson Whittemore.

The first half of the summer Lydia spent at the Country Club, where she knew she would run into Jackson. This was actually the first summer Lydia would spend at the Country Club of her own free will. Before, her parents would drag her there when they had a business lunch or what not and they wanted to show off their genius daughter.

It did not take Jackson long to notice Lydia flaunting her body, had previously been hidden in unflattering layers, as she sunbathed in skimpy bikinis by the pool. Each day she would slowly get bolder with how she would present herself. At first, she would just relax by the pool, enjoying the sun on her skin. Eventually she gained enough confidence to start ordering the staff around.

It was an intoxicating high to her the first few times she ordered around the staff like they were peons beneath her. She liked the power she had over them. Lydia also liked how the other boys around the pool took notice of her and began to flirt with her. It took a little practice but eventually Lydia was able to manipulate these boys by simply batting her eyelashes at them. She was queen and she loved it.

Jackson had always been king, a king without a queen. By the end of the summer, Lydia became his queen.

When school started, Lydia and Jackson had already been deemed Beacon Hills High School's newest power couple. It did not matter that they were freshman; what mattered was that they were beautiful, powerful, and together.

School was harder to circumnavigate as her new self. Lydia still took high-level classes, Jackson himself was even taking them because he was perfect, but she knew he would not be with her if she did not play down her smarts. It was a challenge, one she would accomplish.

Lydia was smart enough when scheduling her classes to take "dumb" electives, the ones that other students would take for the easy-A aspect such as drama. She rolled her eyes when she saw it on her schedule. _What kind of pretentious person would name a high school class Introduction to the Dramatic Arts?_

Lydia entered the auditorium where she would be introduced to the dramatic arts for the term and sat in the very middle like she owned the place and no other seat would suit her. Jackson took the seat next to her, putting his arm across the back of her seat while he turned to talk to his best friend Danny on his other side. Lydia liked Danny, everyone liked Danny, so she gave him a smile before pulling out a nail file from her purse, completely disinterested in the class she was about to take.

Eight minutes after the bell rang; the teacher still had not shown up. Lydia could hear some kid talking, very loudly, about how if a teacher did not show up ten minutes after the bell rang there was no class and that, since this was the last class of the day, they could leave school an hour early. When Lydia looked over at the kid, she recognized him as the one who held the door open for her that morning. It was hard to forget a kid with an ugly buzz cut and horrible fashion sense. Plaid was never in season.

Suddenly the lights shut off, a single spotlight hit center stage, and everyone became eerily silent as some music began to play.

"I know that your powers of retention are as wet as a warthog's backside," a deep voice rang out, filling the auditorium, "but thick as you are, pay attention. My words are a matter of pride. It's clear from your vacant expressions, the lights are not all on upstairs. But we're talking kings and successions; even you can't be caught unawares."

Fog filled the stage, the grey of it hiding the black silhouette of the man who was singing. The spotlight's white color changed to a red as the singer stepped closer to the middle of the stage.

"So prepare for a chance of a lifetime. Be prepared for sensational news. A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer."

The fog stopped and the man stepped out of the grey that hid him, his arms spread wide as he walked forward in front of the shocked freshman. No one made a sound or a move.

The man was dramatic and Lydia figured he was the teacher because who else would make a spectacle of themselves like that. At least he was good looking, she thought as her eyes took in a long look.

He wore a red dress shirt that brought out his figure and black slacks that framed his long legs perfectly. He had a sense of fashion, one that very few of her other teachers had. When Lydia stopped and looked at the man's face, she gulped audibly. His eyes were mesmerizing, and they were staring right at her, a smirk on his face.

"Just listen to teacher. I know it sounds sordid, but you'll be rewarded," the man sauntered upon the stage like he owned it. _The world is but a stage_ came to Lydia's mind in that moment her eyes never leaving him as he sang. "Be prepared."

The music faded and the auditorium came on as the teacher sat down on the edge of the stage, the smirk he had when staring at Lydia on his face once more.

"Welcome to Introduction to the Dramatic Arts. I am Peter Hale, your teacher."

_**Now – Fall 2014**_

"You remember the rotting flesh we smelled at lunch?" Scott said the moment he caught up with Stiles outside of Mr. Harris' class.

Mr. Harris had decided to give Stiles detention every day for two weeks because he accused him of concocting an experiment that blew up in Harris' face, taking his eyebrows with it. Harris did not buy Stiles' accident excuse. He wanted the detentions to last for the whole term, but Coach Finstock assured him that he would make detention seem like a walk in the park compared to cross country practice. Stiles shivered at the thought.

"Yes, the zombie," Stiles responded as he opened the door leading from the school to the parking lot.

"Well it got stronger during English," Scott said as the two of them walked toward the parking lot. "I almost retched right then and there but I didn't want to puke on Miss Blake, which would have been rude on her first day."

"It would have been rude even if it wasn't her first day, dude. Puking on people in general is the epitome of rude. Unless you're drunk, then it's socially acceptable to puke on someone. It's almost a rite of passage," Stiles rambled as he fished out the keys to his jeep from his backpack where he had tossed them earlier that day.

"_**My friends say I should act my age. What's my age again? What's my age again?"**_

Stiles dropped his bag when he jumped at the sound of his cellphone ringing. It had been a while since he heard his phone's default ringtone because everyone in his phone had his or her own unique ringtone. Stiles just hoped it was not a telemarketer; those people should not be calling cell phones, nevertheless teenager's cellphones.

"Hello, Stiles here," he said with a pleasant tone as he tried to relax the rapid beating of his heart.

"Stiles! It's been a while! I'm so happy you have the same number; I didn't want to have to call your dad at work just to get your phone number off of him," a cheerful female voice said from the other end of the line.

"Uh?" Stiles tilted his head, trying to place the voice.

"Stiles? You don't remember me, do you? Middle school was only five years ago," the girl said with an exasperated sigh.

Stiles spent a moment to rack his brain of who he knew in middle school. There was obviously Scott, his best bro since pre-K. There had always been Lydia Martin, the goddess. Which meant Jackson wasn't far behind. Who else could there have been. . .

"Heather?" he guessed, not sure if that was the right name. The only thing he knew for sure was that there had been a blonde haired girl who would come over to his house and insist on making cookies every time. A lot of middle school, and the end of elementary school, was a blurred haze.

"Bingo!" Heather said with a gush of enthusiasm.

"Oh. Hi, Heather. It really has been a long time," Stiles said, bending over to pick up his things that had scattered across the parking lot. Scott, the saint, was getting the pens and highlighters that had rolled under Stiles' jeep, Roscoe. There was even an eraser that somehow ended up on Roscoe's hood. _How did that even happen?_

"Well, since you seem to have forgotten me, I'm guessing you have also forgotten what today is. So I'm just going to tell you. It's my 18th birthday!" Stiles could hear the excitement and smile in her voice. The more she talked, the more he remembered the cookie girl. So far, not much had changed.

"Happy birthday, Heather!" Stiles said jovially as he put the last of his things back in his bag haphazardly.

"Thank you. So, the reason that I called was to invite you over to my house for my birthday party! Oh, and bring Scott! If you and he are still joined at the hip like you were in middle school, that is."

"Oh, Scotty and I are still bros for life I assure you. So, Heather, what time is the party?" Stiles asked, looking up at Scott who he knew had been listening in on the conversation from the beginning. He had a habit of that; something Stiles had yet to figure out how to knock him of. Three years and Scott would not give up that bad habit; he was like a dog with a bone.

"Any time after 7pm. You remember where I live?" Heather asked.

"Of course!" Stiles plopped himself into the driver's seat of the jeep before he put his keys in the ignition.

"Ok. See you two later!" Heather said before hanging up.

"So, a party at Heather's?" Scott asked as he buckled himself in to the passenger seat.

"Yep!"


End file.
